


sandalwood

by koteosa



Series: tumblr prompts [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Headcanon, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other, Polyamory, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22734856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koteosa/pseuds/koteosa
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "Muriel/Asra/Apprentice learning to coexist with one another"Using my male apprentice, Kamui.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Asra/Muriel (The Arcana), Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Male Character(s), Asra/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: tumblr prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634764
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	sandalwood

**Author's Note:**

> this is really meandering and kind of just me rambling about a ship I like and what headcanons I have for it but I had fun writing it so I hope it's fun to read too

Living arrangements were complicated, to say the least. While there was always the option of living separately, Muriel in his hut while the magicians stayed in their shop as they always had—a certain ruby-eyed magician hadn't been thrilled, not loving the idea of reverting to the status quo. It wasn't healthy. Everything they'd done to boost the reclusive man up would be lost if he just went back to isolation like he always did.

The shop, where Kamui had lived his whole known life with Asra at his side, was pitted up against the hut, where Muriel was the most comfortable, and where Asra spent most of his teenage years. The magician was always in the middle, easy to please with either option.

But Asra and Muriel remembered _both_ of Kamui's first exposures to the hut, and that opinion hadn't really changed. To put it lightly, he hated the place. There was nowhere comfortable enough to sit, it was too dark, too small, too cold or too hot. Not decorated enough. Nowhere to store food, or all of his clothes. Hardly enough room for three people to sleep, much less go about their daily life.

And that wasn't even bringing up the _bugs_. Oh, there were _so many_ bugs getting in through the cracks, and Kamui couldn't stand them crawling on him at night, getting everything dirty, biting him, chewing holes into his clothes. If they weren't making a mess of things, Kamui wouldn't mind them much at all. But this was bordering on an infestation, or so Kamui liked to claim in the midst of a neurotic episode of obsessive cleaning.

Muriel wasn't bothered by any of it, having lived his whole life finding workarounds to problems rather than solutions, or just getting used to his lot in life. The only thing that bothered him was how much it bothered Kamui. But nothing he knew how to do would solve any of the man's problems with his hut, so all he could do was apologize, and then Kamui would tell him it wasn't his fault, and then Muriel would apologize for apologizing and it would all just cycle around forever.

The shop was considerably bigger. Not really appropriately sized for three, especially not when one of them was much larger than the others. It wasn't overly dramatic, but Muriel still looked odd perched on one of their low-rise dining chairs. Their bed, while always large enough to fit a third, saw itself threatening to reach capacity once Muriel squeezed in alongside them. It didn't help that he looked at odds with everything, in general, in his ripped clothes and scarred body, surrounded by crystals and smooth silks and all of Asra's paintings or Kamui's flower arrangements. He felt dirty, a living speck of filth in an art museum, afraid to touch anything.

And while the two magicians were used to lazing around the house, reading or practicing magic or just basking in each other's presence; Muriel felt cooped up, awkward, and tense. He couldn't relax the way they could, even with all the wards around the shop. He didn't just… lay down on the floor like that. What was he meant to do on the floor? They seemed to know, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. He had to be occupied, doing something with his hands, or up on his feet. They didn't. He tried to join them, and sometimes it felt nice, but it always went on for too long, and he started to feel _off_ , in ways they never did.

Maybe he was just doing it wrong. Kamui had promised to hunt down a bunch of books that Muriel would like, so he could read with them, or just have something quiet to do while the two magicians were busy napping on him. Which they did very frequently, for some reason. There were far better places to lay, but they didn't care. Something about heartbeats or warmth, but they could get both of those in other ways, ways that were better, ways that weren't… _him_.

The shop spoke of comfort and serenity and he didn't belong. The two magicians fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle; or two halves of the same heart, more accurately. They thrived on luxury, with their plush bed, six hundred pillows spread all throughout the house, incense and tea time and sweet food and silk clothes. They could spend days laying around in bed cuddling, exchanging sweet nothings and spoiling each other in various ways.

Their borderline hedonistic lifestyle didn't suit Muriel. He didn't… he didn't deserve it. It wasn't for people like him, and he could never relax, doing what they did. He couldn't let them do those things to him. He acted like he hated it, when in reality it was just the overwhelming guilt, a feeling that seemed to never go away. Lives had been destroyed because of him, why should he get to lie around in bed in fancy clothes, getting massages all the time, eating grapes out of someone's hand? He wasn't a prince, he was the speck of dirt on the prince's boot.

Even despite all that, the shop still had some obvious incompatibilities with Muriel's lifestyle. For starters, it couldn't permanently house a bunch of chickens, and even after so much exposure to her, Kamui still got nervous when Inanna was around. His irrational fear of her was sympathetic, even if Muriel didn't really get it. It wasn't like Kamui was rude to her; he tried his best to get used to her, to pet her, to talk to her and get to know her.

But Muriel could tell that wasn't the full reason Kamui didn't quite want her in the shop. The man was _convinced_ a wolf would make a mess of things. And considering how he reacted to the natural filth of living in a stone hut under the roots of a tree, Muriel wasn't so sure Kamui would survive if Inanna so much as scuffed the floorboards.

It was ridiculous, in Muriel's opinion. Inanna was perfectly well behaved, and anything she did, the three of them were capable of handling. Kamui fixed bloodstains and tears in his clothes _all the time_ , he could do the same for anything Inanna accidentally damaged. But then Kamui would remind him she'd broken his window and pinned him to the ground, covered in blood, while growling, an event he still had nightmares about, and that didn't leave Muriel with much of a leg to stand on.

Her, and the chickens, were allowed visits, but not permanent stays, not yet. There wasn't space for them. Although Asra had made little beds for all of them anyway, which he put away whenever they weren't around.

Kamui was slowly getting used to it, warming to the chickens much faster. He seemed appalled when Muriel had told him he never named any of them, and came up with his own names, over time. Mostly literary, although he'd named the chicken who seemed most attached to Asra _Belladonna_ , because _of course he did_. Despite having never interacted with a hen in his life, he could tell them apart flawlessly each time he saw them, and easily picked up on their personalities.

Living in the shop often overwhelmed Muriel. Kamui did his best to be understanding. Kamui and Asra both tried their best to keep him as comfortable as possible while he was there. It was something Kamui had learned to do over time, yet was much better at picking up quickly than he was… _before_.

It was bizarre, the difference in temperment, yet sometimes the two versions of Kamui were indistinguishable. Asra would claim that was always the case, and while Muriel didn't believe him in the slightest, Asra knew Kamui better than anyone.

Still. He liked this newer version better. The old one talked too much, was far prissier and had no concept of boundaries. This one picked up quickly on all his anxieties, pushed when needed and accomodated him when needed. The first time Muriel'd offered the man a plate of eggs, he expected to hear him complain about a lack of seasoning or fancy silverware or some other ridiculous problem. Yet he did nothing of the sort. He was _grateful_ , even apologetic, thinking he might be inconveniencing Muriel. _Him._ Inconveniencing _him_!

Asra was blind. This man was a completely different person.

Although even this version of Kamui had his limits. He still had his vanity, his decadence, his… uh… libido. He didn't like the hut, could only fall asleep there if someone held him. He practically trembled with stress upon waking up with any sort of dirt that wasn't there before, worried that it was in his hair, or on his clothes. Muriel constantly turned to find him rubbing his hands on something, usually his pants, to get dirt off of them. The tables, though perfectly clean, he wouldn't touch, and wouldn't explain why. As if Muriel would get angry with him if he did.

 _It's the ash_ , Asra had explained. Anything dirty and dry and cloying, like _ash_ , put him in a bad place. It was probably all the dust from his woodwork that Kamui was feeling, even though Muriel thought it had been cleaned well enough. Apparently not. He'd have to try harder.

Though Kamui hardly wanted to touch _anything_ , not after he'd learned what it felt like, and never seemed to get used to it.

But when Muriel grew too overwhelmed by life at the shop, he needed to run back to his hut for awhile, and Asra sometimes followed. At night, they would lay together. Asra would comb through his hair and help him prepare meals. They would check on the charms, play with Inanna, gather wild ingredients or take a dip in a nearby lake together. But Kamui wouldn't, and when Kamui wouldn't follow, that was a problem, because then Asra was less likely to follow. While Asra and Muriel functioned fairly well on their own, Kamui, apparently, started to break down after too much isolation, and Asra just couldn't leave him alone to suffer through his damaging thoughts.

And without either of them, the hut was just… too empty. It had never been a problem before now—no, that was a lie. It was a problem when Asra left the first time, to move in with the _old_ version of Kamui. Back then, he barely got to see the magician at all with how frequently he travelled, or camped out in the city with his fortune telling tent. Losing even more of Asra's time and attention had felt… bad. He wasn't sure how to phrase it any better than that, it was so much to think about, the way it felt like he was being left behind, or betrayed. How much he grew to resent Kamui's entire existence for it.

But he'd gotten used to it. The hut was his safe haven, where nobody whose named started with an L could get to him, and he didn't like letting people into it. Even now, after all the apparent "exposure therapy" the magicians had put him through, he still hated it. And for two people who supposedly disliked crowds and preferred to be alone, Asra and Kamui were sure big on having lots of friends, and bringing those friends around a lot.

Although, granted, "lots of friends" amounted to exactly three people, a bird, and a cat, but it was still a lot, and that wasn't even taking into account Asra's parents, who were… far too nice to him. Three people was a lot, and doubled to six… no way. No way. Especially not the tall one. His voice was far too loud and he got this look in his eye when he gazed at Asra that Muriel did _not_ like.

Asra had laughed and called him jealous. …Maybe he was.

(He'd certainly felt that way about the _old_ Kamui. And the new one, too, at first.)

They didn't fit in the hut with him, and he had no idea how to fit in the shop with them. He couldn't run it, no way was he going to have to deal with customers on a daily basis. Just his visage would drive away their business, much less his lack of customer service habits. He wasn't pretty or charming like they were. Even still, Kamui had suggested he try doing readings with his runes for the customers, but there was just… no way. He'd sooner teach Kamui to do it than have to look a complete stranger in the eye, and then find his voice long enough to _speak_ to them.

…But it was… a nice thought. Kamui really tried, and succeeded more than Asra ever did; he was too gentle, but Kamui lacked all of that. He'd tell you exactly what he thought without a care. While Asra made suggestions, Kamui made demands. When Muriel said or did something concerning, Asra gave him that sad look of his, but didn't push; Kamui looked him dead in the eye and told him to "fuck off with that", unafraid to call him out, to improve his behavior, to push him out of his comfort zone. Never too far, though, not after the sparring incident.

He was weirdly good about it. Must be all the books on psychology he kept in his—in… _their_ shop. Asra and Kamui's shop. Yeah. Not Muriel's, never Muriel's. He was a guest in their home, the addition, the third. The man who stood awkwardly off to the side while _they_ cooked, who fidgeted endlessly wondering what he was even meant to do in a place filled with magic, and makeup, and _books_. God, there were so many books.

At first, he considered whittling in the kitchen, but after finding out about Kamui's _problem_ , that was a no-go. He wasn't sure he wanted to risk triggering the man in his own home, so he had to find something else. Sometimes, it was nice to sit somewhere with one or both of the magicians in his lap, reading or daydreaming. That was the easiest choice, but it often felt like the only choice.

Every now and then, Kamui would take him into the city, to go shopping or just to talk a walk together. He'd hold Muriel's hand, and tell him about how Asra used to hold _his_ hand and lead him around the city when he wasn't able to talk, and got overwhelmed in crowds. Told Muriel about how he'd panic, and start to cry, and Asra would promptly lead him into an secluded area to soothe him, with soft words, a gentle touch and a spell. A spell Asra taught him at his request, just in case Muriel ever wanted to try it. Just in case he ever _needed_ it.

But Muriel could speak, and the crowds didn't intimidate him _that_ badly. He wouldn't break down and cry. He meant no offense to Kamui, his situation was unique, but Muriel wasn't a child.

Or so he thought, but when the crowds in the market grew dense and it seemed like they were all closing in on him, he felt like he was suffocating, and everyone saw right through him, and he couldn't breathe and it was too hot and they were _touching him_ and the spell didn't work anymore and they all knew who he was and he couldn't handle the hate in their eyes even though he deserved it and he deserved their hate and he deserved to feel hurt just like everyone _he'd_ hurt and—

The spell glides over him like a light blanket, soft like silk and smooth. It's colorful, not like Asra's magic at all. It blackens out his surroundings and makes it appear as if they're floating in the night sky, surrounded by fireworks. They pop and fizzle in the shapes of hearts, twinkling like stars, fluttering past him like lightning bugs. It's easy to get lost in it.

Below him, arms wrapped around his waist, is Kamui, gazing up at him fondly as the lights glitter in his eyes, a warm smile offered only to him that has his heart fluttering. He's warm, and not because of the anxiety, not anymore. That felt like a distant memory now. Everything was okay and it felt as if it had always been okay.

Muriel looks into Kamui's glittering eyes and his heart begins to pound. That's when he thinks, _Oh. This is why Asra fell in love with you._

It was wrong to waste time on someone like him, but they did it anyway. Kamui hung scarves from his shoulders, held fancy, clip-on earrings up to him and told him he'd look beautiful in emeralds, or polished malachite, or a deep onyx and oh, but wouldn't he let Kamui paint his face, or his nails, and plan a nice, comfortable outfit for him, with rich earthy tones, with deep greens and blacks, with smooth turquoise and soft whites.

Asra only encouraged it. Smoothed his baby soft hands over Muriel's scarred body, called him precious, treasured, cherished. Joined him in the bath, massaged scented shampoos into his hair, kissed the shell of his ear and lathered fancy soap over his body like he meant something, like he was worth putting time and effort into. All the time spent brushing his hair, the money that went into tailoring the perfect robes for him to wear after his bath, in all the right colors and patterns and fabrics. They were both paying attention, and he didn't know what to feel.

Sometimes it made him want to cry. He didn't understand that either.

Maybe he should ask Kamui. The man cried for any reason. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen Asra break down, and those were… usually tears of grief. But Kamui looked at a cat that was a little _too_ adorable and got choked up. The first time Muriel had given him a gift for his birthday, a little carving of a cat made out of birchwood, Kamui had cried tears of delight, of love. Sometimes he got teary eyed over _hypotheticals,_ things that hadn't happened yet but could, and were so distressing he couldn't handle it. For someone so arrogant, so headstrong, so aggressive, he was… surprisingly softhearted, too.

And a little dark, but Muriel was extremely hesitant to delve into _that_. Not Asra, though, but Asra would do anything for Kamui, and had taken the time and effort to study him. It was helpful, considering, to Muriel's initial surprise, Kamui wasn't as put together as he seemed, and needed someone who understood him to help him feel okay again after he started slipping.

There was an image of Kamui that had been burned into Muriel's mind. When they had gone to the Scourgelands together, he had watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Asra held Kamui's face, gazed into his eyes lovingly, and told him Kamui meant the world to him. That he couldn't bare to lose him, (not again,) and right when the bitter tendrils of jealousy and resentment had started twisting around inside Muriel's guts, he saw the look in Kamui's eyes.

Complete and utter disbelief. Resigned, like no one could possibly love him, least of all someone so beautiful, so charming, so kind, so _perfect_ , and everything Asra said to reassure him of the opposite just rolled right off of him. A wall had been built between them over years of abandonment and blocks in communication.

And it all looked so _familiar_ , driving the bitter feelings away to be replaced with sympathy and guilt. It was… humanizing. Kamui was a _person_ , and he had it in him to feel unloved, and unworthy, just like…

No, it wasn't the same, it could never be the same. Kamui had never killed anyone, and despite what his mind told him was the truth, he had Asra's undying love, and Muriel… didn't. And he never expected to.

But Kamui was also very perceptive, and very nosy, and _very_ determined. It barely took five seconds of seeing the two friends interact before Kamui had seen right through him, and started trying to get the two of them to date. It was like the concept of unrequited love was such an overwhelming tragedy to him that he wouldn't stop until it was requited. Frustratingly, and _amazingly_ , his meddling had worked out.

And now, here they were. There were times when Kamui would hold his hand and read his palm for him, or paint his nails, or braid his hair and teach him how to dance, not even getting mad when Muriel stepped on his toes. There were times Asra pinned flowers into his hair, and baked fresh bread for them to enjoy together, and cuddled up to him like a giant teddy bear and explained to him the romantic compatibility between geminis and virgos (or virgos and scorpios, for that matter).

Even though Kamui had the disturbing habit of forgetting to look after himself, he wouldn't let Muriel do the same, and with the support of both men, _Asra_ wouldn't let either of them slack on self care. They liked to cook every meal together, turning it into a day-to-day activity whenever the magicians were at home, and not away on one of their many travels. Muriel didn't often follow them on those; there were too many people they'd end up encountering, and too many noises, and bright lights, and just… too much.

But when the magicians _were_ home, they took care of each other. Kamui and Muriel's fears and insecurities were met with Asra's unyielding love and the warmth of his embrace. The lack of care Muriel put into his own body was met with Asra dragging him into the bath, or Kamui putting in the effort to lather his _entire_ body with lotion, or one of them combing tangles out of his hair while the other worked on a princess braid to keep his hair out of his eyes.

Their bathroom was filling up with products in scents Muriel liked, alongside the spicy scents Asra liked, and the sweet, floral scents Kamui liked. There were homemade balms Kamui would spend hours making to soothe the throb of Muriel's worst scars. Animal furs joined the silk sheets and thick quilts of their bedroom. Mugs were appearing in colors Muriel liked, with wolves drawn onto them in Asra's paint, made out of the magic glass Kamui was getting used to working with.

And now there was a chest dedicated to his clothing in the bedroom. Before he was living with the same outfit everyday, washed and dried at the same time as his body and hair. A collection of scarves, robes, and the finery he wore to the masquerade have expanded into full outfits, jewelry, new pairs of boots and so much else. Kamui loved to decorate him, and Kamui was surprisingly easy to say yes to. Every time he bent to Kamui's will, Asra would strike, pointing out that _oh, Kamui, he doesn't have any winter jackets either, maybe you could look for one? And his boots are looking a little worse for wear, how about a new pair? He needs more variety, don't you think? How about a new belt?_

In addition to that, Kamui had learned to bake bread just because he thought it would make Muriel happy, and nearly burst into tears of joy when Muriel had shown the slightest hint of a smile. And then Asra made them tea, as Kamui teased him over the story his parents had told him about Asra's attempts at magically brewing tea. Asra would get flustered and try to defend himself, begging Muriel to back him up. Then Muriel would side with Kamui just to see what would happen, and feel something light and wholesome bloom in his chest when the man would be delighted with his support, while Asra pouted and then the magicians would tease each other and laugh.

It was moments like that that made him wonder if maybe he _did_ belong here, with the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> http://koteosa.carrd.co/


End file.
